Espionage
by MelloJason
Summary: The team is being followed, basically traced down to their cores. Is it possible they have a mole in their midst?
1. Return

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I am simply a fan and have no rights towards Criminal Minds in any way, shape, or form. Thank you.**

**This story takes place in the midst of season 5, right after episode 106- "Public Enemy", most because I'd like Prentiss to still be with us, but Hotch still a little scarred by Haley's death. I'm not planning on having an author's note on every chapter as I have done in the past. The events that take place might end up altering future events, but I can't really help that. **

**Cast of Characters-**

**SSA/BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner- Thomas Gibson**

**SSA/Unit Senior Agent David Rossi- Joe Mantegna**

**SSA Derek Morgan- Shemar Moore**

**SSA Dr. Spencer Reid- Matthew Gray Gubler**

**SSA Emily Prentiss- Paget Brewster**

**SSA/Media Liaison Jennifer "JJ" Jareau- AJ Cook**

**Technical Analysis Penelope Garcia- Kirsten Vangsness**

**BAU Section Chief Erin Strauss- ****Jayne Atkinson**

**I might end up adding the simple recurring characters once they're brought into the story, but for now it's just the main cast.**

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><p>Title: Espionage<p>

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><p><strong>Summary: Right after dealing with the serial killer in Wyoming, JJ and Hotch go over a new case and bring it up to the team, Morgan giving the go to go through with taking the case onto the team. At the beginning, the team thinks it's a normal killing spree in Quantico, Virginia- well, as normal as a killing spree can get- until they are convinced that one of the officers has been leaking information to the unsub, or by far worse could be the unsub. Sooner or later, they'll start to suspect each other. Who could possibly be the unsub?<strong>

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><p>"Man has such a predilection for systems and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his senses only to justify his logic," as said by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.<p>

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><p>"Did you know that Wyoming has one of the weirdest climate arrangements in the entire continental US? It's generally semi-arid and drier than the rest of the country as a whole but for reasons mainly due to the location of the state itself and its topography. It's weird, but the Midwest gets colder summers than Wyoming actually does, which is somewhat odd because Wyoming obviously has more mountains and high raising areas since that's what makes the state cold in the first place. We also get warmer summers in Quantico than they've probably seen in a long time-"<p>

"Reid?"

The young genius glanced up; redirecting his attention to Derek Morgan, one of the team's finest. His hair swished back from behind his ears and flew in front of his face, making him shove them back as soon as Morgan continued.

"You know, we don't need a commentary of every place we go, or even fly over," the older man continued, leaning back on his seat, resting his hands on the armrests.

"Sorry," Reid replied, flipping through his hand one more time before laying down his cards. "Royal Flush."

Closing his eyes and sinking down into his seat even further, Morgan let out an annoyed sigh as the cards in the table. "You know everything don't you?"

Spencer Reid pained out his own provoked exhale. "Like I've said before, despite the fact that you think I know everything, I don't. I just remember it."

"That's the same thing, Pretty Boy."

"Actually, even though they're both parts in the memory process, remembering is mostly of things you've seen or heard in the past, and possibly read, but knowing-"

"Reid," Hotch said, speaking up from three seats away on the jet.

The boy unabashedly blushed, tearing his eyes from Morgan to Hotchner. "Sorry," he repeated, pulling all the cards from the table and forming them back together in one single hand. Shoving them back in the box, Prentiss smirked and came over to sit by Boy Genius.

"Reid, don't suffocate the cards. You're going to end up cutting the corners off." The brunette placed her butt down on the booth, sliding in a little.

"Ah, I'm gonna get some sleep before we arrive back in Quantico," Morgan muttered, standing up from his seat on the bench, moving towards the front of the plane, replacing the awkward voices from across the plane with the music that was now fuming through his headphones.

"Me too," Reid said, agreeing with Morgan. "I don't know when I'll be able to get some sleep in before we get back to the BAU. Better be prepared for anything, since cases decide to pop up all over the place these days." The Einstein slid out of the nook and walked back towards JJ, taking a bench against the back of the back of the aircraft. He stretched out his arms, cracking his back slightly before laying down on the bench, flinging his arms around one of the simple beige pillow.

Prentiss sighed, lying down on the now vacant booth. "'Guess I'm crashing, too," she mumbled unintelligibly, using her sweater as a blanket.

Clicking off the light for the other agents, JJ came out from the cockpit carrying three manila envelopes and took a seat next to Hotch. Something was off about the young liaison, since she normally didn't come out with cases in silence, and generally wanted everyone awake when she talked about a new case.

"JJ?" Hotch asked, seeming a little concerned; most of the time she wasn't this silent.

The blond glanced to the Unit Chief, then to Rossi, and back to the bag containing endless amounts of paperwork.

"We were given a case in Quantico. It doesn't seem right," she replied, slightly on edge, hoping none of the other members were still awake. It's not that she didn't want to inform them, she just didn't want them to worry.

"How does it not seem right?" Rossi asked, leaning forward on the table and resting his face in his hands. The man's eyebrows rose, creating a small crease on his forehead.

JJ took a long breath, trying to find the best way to get across to subject. "There's been a serial killer watching us for a while," she whispered. "Either he's watching us or is someone we know."

Hotch grew closer, but lowered his voice. "How do you know?"

The liaison glanced around once more before continuing. "Everywhere we go as a team, or even a small group, pair, or by ourselves, this killer goes out of his way to kill someone at every place exactly one day later, at the exact time we were there."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a quick glance, looking back to JJ. "Are you sure?" the chief asked.

JJ nodded, placing the envelopes on the table before the three of them. "I asked for copies of everything and got two, so you guys can look it over if you like. I'm going to get a start on the paperwork for the last case. The sooner we get that one out of the way, the sooner this one will become top priority."

Aaron Hotchner dipped his head once, opening the folder, flipping through pieces of paper. "I wish I could read as fast as Reid. This is a lot of desk work."

Rossi ran his hand over his face, possibly an attempt to show how much of a strain this case was going to be.

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><p><strong>Okay, last author's note for a while, but I wanted to let people that are reading know that I'm grateful for their interest in this story, even if they don't have any urge to continue reading. Thank you, and reviews are always welcome.<strong>


	2. Briefing

"Intellectual growth should commerce at birth and only cease at death." –Albert Einstein

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><p>After the team arrived back at the office, JJ met with Hotch alone, and he gave her the okay to bring the case up to the team. She walked from Hotch's room, through the hallway, passing Prentiss and Reid as they poured coffee. "Come to the conference room when you're done. We have another case."<p>

The young genius turned after JJ continued after them and then back to Prentiss as he added more sugar to his caffeinated beverage.

Emily Prentiss shrugged, taking a quick sip of her drink before walking on after the liaison.

Upon arriving in the room she noticed it was for the most part occupied. Garcia and Morgan were already using the window board and shuffling through the paperwork from the Wyoming case and Hotch and Rossi were in the back talking to the team's Media communicator. Reid walked in after her, sipping on his highly tolerated coffee before holding it to his chest and sitting down. Prentiss then sat down and set her coffee on the conference table.

JJ walked towards the center of the room, clicking a single button on the television that was shown before them.

"From what we've gathered, our team has been being followed throughout Quantico since last year. It wasn't clear until now that our team was the one being targeted, or stalked per se. The way it works out is that one or more of us go somewhere besides home and work in the Quantico area, say at 5:00p.m. on Monday. The killer will go out and kill someone at the exact same location and time, just one day later. Somehow, he knows exactly where we are and has for some time."

"As far as we can go back, do we have any idea when the attacks on the public started?" Reid asked, leaning forward in the carpeted chair, reaching for his sugar with coffee.

"It's assumed October, but there might have been an earlier date. We're not sure what the unsub wants, just that it somehow concerns us," Hotch continued, stepping towards the table.

The genius glanced around the room. "How can we be sure that it isn't someone in the bureau? Everyone around here knows exactly where we are at all times. They could've been using the GPS as an advantage."

"We have nothing that points to the bureau in any way, just that it's us being followed," JJ replied, looking down to the youngest member.

Morgan sat at his seat tapping the table's leg. "Is there anything that points us away from the bureau? We need to take all precautions. The killer could continue the spree and get bored with killing people one day after us. He might move onto us ourselves."

"That would be changing his entire MO, so it's highly unlikely that would happen," Rossi said, disagreeing.

"Maybe that's exactly what he wants us to think," Reid mumbled, tearing his glance away from his beverage and to JJ. "Is there a way you can get me the exact day that it started? Or the first day we noticed it starting? There might have been a trigger."

JJ nodded, looking over to Hotch who was now fumbling through a gigantic folder of information. "Prentiss, Morgan, you two look over the places the murders have taken place. Rossi and I will go through everyone we've worked with in the entire last year and see who can possibly fit our profile. We know this unsub, and he knows us. JJ, get the information on the dates for Reid. Make sure none of this gets to the public."

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><p>"It was October 15, 2009," JJ said, walking back into the conference room as Reid continued to make a mind map on the window board.<p>

"That was a Thursday, the day after we got back from D.C."

"What happened when we were in D.C.?" JJ asked herself, sitting down in front of the map that Reid was producing.

"If I'm thinking of the right D.C. incident, the group of killers went around and killed people at random. That could've been a trigger, like, bringing back suppressed memories of whom someone really is. The group we caught there simply wanted the power, more like the thrill of each kill."

JJ raised her eyebrow, glancing from the board to Reid. "But how could that have been a trigger in the unsub's mind?"

Reid glanced back to the blond, making sure he would explain it the correct way. "It's a collective understanding that when someone who's lived by their morals until a certain point normally has a trigger, and in this sense the idea that someone can randomly kill people just appalls our unsub. He believes that everything needs to be constructed in a righteous manner and that doing things out of the blue just makes him angry. He thinks there has to be a reason to go out and call people, and somehow, we're part of this reason. It's fits the profile of any FBI agent: constructive, overly protective, organized. If I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure we're dealing with an agent here, or at least someone who's been an agent. Possibly one of the people we've worked with at D.C.?"

Hotch leaned forward from the back of the room. "I came to the same conclusion, but Rossi seems to disagree. He's been set against it since Morgan brought it up."

"Maybe he doesn't think that an agent could do this?" JJ asked.

"Or he knows more than he's leading on. I wonder if he remembers anything from D.C. that I don't," Reid mumbled, walking towards the table to sip some coffee as Garcia barged through the conference room door.

"Guys, I looked into what happened on our cases a couple weeks prior to the one in D.C., and it looks light the cases were really different. We went back to Rossi's hometown and then the other case was with the man who suffered a psychotic breakdown in that pharmacy, killing the people there."

"It could be possible seeing Rossi go back to his hometown could've been a trigger, or seeing Hotch still reacting from when Haley and Jack were put under government protection," Reid spoke up, eyeing the room. He hoped nothing he said had affected Hotch too much in a negative way. He was still recovering from Haley's death.

"I'm getting the feeling the unsub has been watching us way before he made any motive of killing people. He had to know our schedules, he had to know when we got home and where we were, our day-to-day lives. He's been watching us a long time before October, possibly even years before he made a move."

The team that was present glanced to Hotch, who had just finished talking.

"Should we look back as far as we can in our records?" Reid asked, glancing from JJ to Hotch.

The unit chief shook his head. "No; by the time we begin to sort through our records someone else will wind up dead."\

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><p>As Cicero once said, "the life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living."<p> 


	3. Signature

"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." - Will Rogers

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><p>Morgan and Prentiss arrived at one of the most recent crime scenes, a local pub called Command Post. Days before leaving for Wyoming, Derek had gone to the bar with Garcia and Prentiss, trying to 'lie back' a little. Hotch and Reid had politely declined, like always, and Rossi never gave an answer, he just left for the day without notifying the team.<p>

The team was like one family, but after hours everyone did have their own lives.

Normally Morgan would go home to Clooney and pour himself a glass of some odd-labeled liquor, normally Bacardi or Smirnoff. The taste to him was exquisite; he wasn't the type to get drunk, just buzzed enough to make himself crash soon after getting home.

Hotch and Reid were alike, well, in the way their lives ran after getting home. Most of the case profiling paperwork got dumped on the two of them, so they stayed at the office the longest, Hotch sometimes giving Reid rides back home since the young agent normally took public forms of transportation. Trains weren't the best place to be at night, especially on the East coast. It was like asking for a beating.

Penelope Garcia, along with Kevin Lynch, went back to her house on a normal night after a long days work at the BAU. They were both techies, which might have attracted one to the other, or possibly the fact they're both skilled hackers and both on the FBI's watch list. Besides the fact that they go home together, Jason Gideon, one of the first member's on the team, had caught them in the shower together before. Maybe that's what they did after going back to Garcia's house.

Prentiss simply went home and crashed, sometimes reading part of a book. It never differed, unless she was called sometime in the night by the office declaring there was another case.

Rossi, well none of them really knew about Rossi. He might go home to an empty house, but the possibilities of what he did there were absolutely endless. Garcia once thought to put cameras in his house to find out, but was discouraged by the brilliant Dr. Reid.

Since all the paperwork was done on the flight back from Wyoming, it was going to be an easy night for the entire team. Well, maybe a little hard, considering they were being watched by an unknown spectator. Reid and Hotch wouldn't have endless desk work shuffled onto them; they already knew every place they were at before leaving the state, since Garcia had already tracked down every location they might have been at. And since Reid had an eidetic memory… well, the point is made. They only thing they really needed to worry about in the slightest was the fact that someone might end up dying since they decided to step out for a coffee or a smoke, well, none of them smoke so not necessarily a cigarette. Maybe something simple like Morgan going out to walk Clooney, and this sick bastard would go on out and shoot some innocent bystander who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Morgan shook the ceaseless thoughts from his head as they flooded in. There was no use in fretting over something that was out of your control, he reminded himself as another officer walked out from the back of the bar.

"I'm Officer Harris," the man said, reaching his arm out towards Morgan in an attempt for a handshake.

"SSA Derek Morgan," Morgan replied, leaning forward to accept the commercial gesture. "This is SSA Emily Prentiss," he continued, scooting out of the way if Prentiss felt like shaking the officer's hand also.

After she did so, the man who introduced himself as Harris lead both Morgan and Prentiss to the back of the bar, letting the agents examine the crime scene for themselves.

It was obviously touched. Apparently uniforms these days didn't understand that crime scenes are always left alone. They might have already destroyed any fingerprints that could've been IDed. There was barely any hope that they could ID a positive suspect from any of the information they would end up gathering at this sight.

"How many officers have been through here? And do they know the regulations of a crime scene?" Morgan asked, his voice giving out hints of annoyance and his face showed that he was a little more than just ticked off.

He continued to examine the room, small numbered flags thrown out around the room. The bar was somewhat demolished, little parts of the room thrown everywhere. It was obvious that the bar stools weren't normally tossed over the bar itself and missing legs.

The body was gone, but the chalk line gave out an approximate location of where it ended up being. The kill, from what Derek had read in files, was apparently clean cut and the victim wasn't hurt more than a little kid getting a haircut. Pretty much, they think it's going to hurt, and then all they actually feel is the hair flowing along them. But in this case it's not the hair, it's the actual victim's life, like, flashing before their eyes.

It made Morgan sick.

"Huh?" Harris asked, looking over his shoulder at the young agent.

"How many officers have been through here? And why has the crime scene been messed with?"

Harris narrowed his eyes at Morgan. "Only my men have been through here-"

"Well, they obviously have no idea what they're doing," Morgan said, interrupting.

Prentiss stayed silent as she looked over what was still able to be made out as a crime.

"Excuse me, Agent Morgan?" Harris spoke again, completely ignoring Prentiss and the entire nothing she was up to.

Derek Morgan turned over his shoulder to eye the older officer. "I said they were lacking in proper teachings. Officers do not touch a crime scene, Harris. It's against protocol, always has been and always will be. Since when have your men forgotten that?"

Harris was obviously fuming. Prentiss could feel the tension from halfway across the room. Time to intervene.

"Hey, Morgan? I think I might have something over here."

The other agent broke glance and strode over to Emily, hoping that something she was talking about might give them the slightest of a lead.

"What is it, Prentiss?" Morgan asked, leaning over where the female was to get a better look at whatever she was talking about.

Somewhere underneath the hovering hand of Prentiss, covered in latex of course, was the slightest version of this serial killer's signature.

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><p>Spencer Reid was probably the smartest member of the team. He graduated from high school at age 12 and got his first degree when he was sixteen. Not to mention the fact that he held an eidetic memory and the ability to read around 20,000 words a minute. Apparently, the conscious mind can only generate under 1,000, but the subconscious state, well, the world may never know.<p>

He was the youngest member of the team even though he held the most intellect, something the unsub had already deluded. He knew everything about their lives; their schedules, where they went, the ways they got to-and-from work. _Everything._

Something about this case just didn't seem right to him, though. It's not like any case has a certain feeling, but he felt like they were missing something. Something large.

From the bottom of his pocket he felt the instant vibrate flood up his thigh, mentally commenting that it was a slower reaction than it would have been if the brain didn't have to process the frequencies.

Reid held his hand to his face, eyeing the phone, and reading the ID; Morgan. Hitting the small green button, he started to answer.

"Rei-"

"_Reid, I need you to look up a certain word and an acronym that might be related_," Morgan spoke through the phone.

"Shoot," Spence said, sitting down in front of the laptop that was resting on the conference room's table.

"_The word is Aenema and the letters are LTS." _Morgan paused for a quick moment as he could hear the endless keying from the other end._ "Check the word first and then look for the letters on whatever you get out of the search_."

"I got it," Reid said, almost too late, since Morgan was ready hang up. "The name Aenema is the title of a song by an art rock band named Tool, and the song is mostly talking about LA and the collective hatred towards it. I'm guessing LTS is 'Learn to Swim.' The small phrase is mentioned eighteen times throughout the song, five times in collective threes and three after the end of verses which at the first time are separated by only one verse but then later it's separated by two, one similar to the first one and the other something completely different. For the similar ones, the first time it's 'Bullshit three ring circus sideshow full of freaks.' The second time it just adds 'It's a,' which is probably a meaningless subordinate clause that just fit well to the writers."

"_Alright, Spencer,_" Morgan said, giving a short chuckle. _Does that boy even breathe? _"_Did you find out anything else? Possibly about the group or the album_?"

"Well, in the song it says Arizona Bay multiple times which is actually meaning the comedy album by Bill Hicks and the album was actually focused on his hatred towards LA, which is the main topic of Aenima and Aenema."

"_Aenima and Aenima_?" Morgan asked, wondering if Spencer was stuck on repeat.

"Yes, Aenima and Aenema. The titled track is spelled a-e-n-e-m-a when the album has an 'I' taking the space of the second 'e.'" Reid paused, letting Morgan catch up before resuming his weird form of an informative lecture. "The verse that's different from the first two by the longest shot has eight lines, all beginning with 'Fret for Your- the ends go 'figure and,' 'latte and,' 'lawsuit and,' 'hairpiece and,' 'Prozac and,' 'pilot and,' 'contract and,' and 'car,' respectively."

"Okay, Reid, thanks. Can you take the letters from all the words and give Garcia a list of possible names? Make sure you use the same pattern, like, if you were to use car and latte, 'c' and 'l' would have to be paired. And the last two letters on latte wouldn't be able to be used, but make sure you do it with the entire group. I doubt it will give us anything but it might be of help."

The young agent nodded, now holding his phone with the side of his head and his shoulder. "It will get done faster if I hang up, though. So I think I'm going to end this call, and call you back if we get anything that might give us a lead."

"_That's fine; Reid, don't forget to search the agency, too. We have our unsub here, but he has some form of power. Maybe even in our division_."

_Maybe even in our team…_ Reid thought, then dismissed the thought from his head. There was no way someone on his team would be able to kill someone, well, unless someone else's life depended on their demise. He guessed that wasn't really the right way to do it, but there wasn't really as _right_ way. Spencer nodded again, knowing in his mind that Derek Morgan couldn't see him. "I'll call you when I get anything that might help us."

Reid could feel Morgan's smile though the phone before the line went dead. "_Thanks, Reid_."

"No problem…" Reid mumbled before closing his phone and resting his hands strictly on the keyboard of the computer.

He had the map of letters already complete in his mind, he just hoped he wasn't wasting his time on something that wouldn't help them at all.

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><p>As Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider once wrote, "It's no accident that the church and the graveyard stand side by side. The city of the dead sleeps encircled by the city of the living."<p> 


	4. Possible Leads: Deleted

"You can't have a light without darkness to stick it in," –Arlo Gunthrie

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><p>As soon as the little light bulb in his head switched on, which he of course knew wasn't actually a light bulb, just the sudden knowledge of something clicking in his mind, Spencer Reid phoned Derek Morgan, hoping the other agent picked up before the third ring. He was becoming antsy with what he had just discovered.<p>

"_Morgan_," the voice on the other end of the line said, almost immediately cut off by the spurt from the young genius.

"Looking up anagrams of those words did me no good, Morgan, but Tool has around three songs when names of people, made up or not, are song titles. Jimmy, Message to Henry Hanback, and Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann). Well, there's also Wings for Marie, but I'm pretty sure our unsub is a male between the ages of 25 and 55, roughly. I know that's a large scope, but I did more treading. See, an anagram of Jimmy Henry Hofmann is John Fayer Norm Mhimn. Okay, so Mhimn might not seem like anything, but they're actually to separate names! John Fayer and Norm Mhimn are apparently two aliases that a FBI agent, sometime in 1998, used when he was overseas in Eastern Europe. I've called further into the bureau, but I can't get anything on the guy's actual identity. He has houses in Europe and America under both name, along with credit cards and full insurance policies." Reid had spent about ten minutes from the time he ended the phone call from Morgan and the time he hit six on his speed-dial looking through the information he had gathered to decide what was even important enough to bring up in conversation. He got most of it; well, everything he thought was good enough to be said through one agent to another. He really didn't feel like wasting Derek's time on trivial matters for the time being. He normally did it, but this wasn't exactly a normal occasion. At that was different; mostly to annoy him or prove something that could help them on the case they were working on. He wondered if this was even considered a case. They weren't working with the 'forms, only the bureau, and kind of against the bureau in another way. He shook the odd thoughts from his head and went back to the real world, finishing up his miniature lecture. "I'm not sure what else this guy might be hiding, but it's probably big if he's going through all this trouble to make sure no one can track him and no one can figure out who the heck he actually is."

"_Have you talked to Gar_-"

"Sorry, Morgan, but Garcia was the first one I touched base on," Reid said, interrupting Morgan once yet again. The older agent didn't get annoyed by it anymore. It happened too often to throw a fit about. "I wouldn't have bothered you this soon unless I knew for sure that I could find him or the opposite. In our case, it's the latter. I've talked to Strauss. Nothing can come out of this, and I'm not allowed any information regarding the man."

"_Do they know that this FBI agent has been killing people since October? Or maybe before then_?" Morgan questioned, a small sound of annoyance in his voice. Okay, maybe he was annoyed with Reid, but it wasn't about being interrupted; not anymore. More like the fact that that Spencer Reid could never get to the point. Doesn't this boy know that we have precious time before someone could be killed?

"No, she doesn't, but neither do we," Reid argued, hoping that Morgan would give it up. There was nothing on the guy, and they couldn't dig any deeper. That was it. The man needed to shut up about it.

Reid heard Morgan's breath catch in his mouth before he moved on to clear his throat. Maybe he wasn't expecting such a reaction from Dr. Reid. "T_hanks, Pretty Boy. If you get anymore leads, or what could possibly be a lead, make sure you keep me in the loop_."

The genius gave a smile he knew Morgan could see, well, sense. "Will do," Reid said, clicking the small glowing red button on the edge of his phone and snapping it shut.

After setting his phone lightly on the conference room table, he shuffled the papers on the table, setting them together on the wood and picking up his coffee mug. Taking a sip of the caffeinated beverage, soaked deeply in endless pure cane sugar, the boy who Garcia called Junior G-man was giving a small smirk from under the glass.

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><p>Aaron Hotchner hadn't been doing as well as he normally was considering Haley's death was still a little fresh in his mind.<p>

He also hated the fact that he was being stalked again. Followed, shadowed, trailed; whatever word fit best at the time. Even if it wasn't only him that was being pursued, he just hated the feeling he was always being _watched._

There was no doubt in his mind that whoever was killing at the locations they visited knew where the entire team was on a regular basis. The fact that someone must've taken their time to track each one of the agents separately was simply appalling. Point meaning, who would want to get rid of people who went the same places FBI agents went? And what was the motive to even do it in the first place? Hotch didn't see one. Right now, that was Reid's job.

Rossi stood next to him, both surrounded by paperwork and about to leave the room to have Garcia check some things for them. Endless amounts of manila folders were lying everywhere around the office; on the table, desks, thrown atop chairs, scattered all over the floor. _Everywhere._

"What do you think, Hotch?" David Rossi asked, leaning over to pick up envelopes full of information and setting other papers back in them.

Hotch glanced over at the man closes to his age, watching him from the side.

David Rossi wasn't the type of man that Hotch thought would be a profiler, but he was damned good at his job. Maybe it was the look, the attitude, or maybe just his air. No one on their team really looked like someone who could do this job every day. Well, maybe Reid, but that's just because he's a genius, and looks the part of a genius.

"I'm guessing the unsub was or is a part of the FBI. It could be another branch, but I doubt it. He's probably closer to us than we think," Hotch said, flipping through files he needed Garcia to run through. "Let's go to Garcia and see what she can get for us."

Rossi nodded his head and walked away from the mess that was thrown around Hotch's office.

"Hopefully she can make something out of all of this. I'm pretty sure I can't," he replied, walking from the room and shutting the door behind him.

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><p>"At times one remains faithful to a cause only because its opponents do not cease to be insipid," as said by Friedrich Nietzsche.<p>

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><p><strong>Sadly, I don't like this chapter very much. I wish I had more a muse tonightearly morning. I'm grateful for the reviews, keep them coming! I should have chapter five up fairly soon.**

**The main reason I'm posting an end note on this chapter is because I have an announcement. I start school really early this year, August 12th. Ugh. Posting chapters might be a little more, well, difficult if I don't finish this before the school year. Hopefully, I do, but I can't make any promises. In the next week, I might not be able to post as much. Might not. I think I still will. But only in the day time. I have... other obligations at night now. And no, I'm not going to do anything weird, because the human mind might have already floated to whatever the hell you're thinking about now.. I just have to help my dad with some stuff and he works in the day time, and well, I don't have a license or anything yet -YET. I WILL GET IT SOON. :D- so I'm kind of worthless unless I can help his load and unload when we can do it on his hours. Anyway! Thank you for this weird.. .what ever it is. And yeah, later, I guess.**


	5. Diversion

"And the angel of the lord came unto me, snatching me up from my place of slumber. And took me on high, and higher still until we moved to the spaces betwixt the air itself. And he brought me into a vast farmlands of our own Midwest. And as we descended, cries of impending doom rose from the soil. One thousand, nay a million voices full of fear. And terror possessed me then," –Maynard James Keenan of Tool.

* * *

><p>Derek Morgan turned back to agent Emily Prentiss with a somewhat unsatisfied look on his face. He was a little let down that nothing could be found on the guy, even due to Garcia's help, but he was Derek Morgan. He wouldn't let his disappointment seep through his façade.<p>

"Did you find out anything?" Prentiss asked, leaning up from the signature the killer had left for them to find. She was still wondering what the reason for a signature was. Sure, the psychopaths wanted some sort of recognition, but why tell the world this was your victim unless you really want to go away for the rest of your life? She guessed it was just some weird chemical reaction the people with psychotic minds possessed.

Morgan glanced around the room before coming back to see Emily straight to face. "He found two aliases of the agent we're looking for-"

"Great, then how do we find them?" Prentiss asked, interrupting Morgan just like Reid was doing previously.

"-but we can't locate him because the FBI won't let us dig any deeper," Derek continued, not stopping his thought when Emily broke it off.

Prentiss frowned, pulling the latex gloves from her hand and shoved them down in her pants pocket. "Well, I guess we're out of luck then."

Morgan grimaced, taking a deep breath and returning an absent gesture to Prentiss. He couldn't the fact that that they had the guy right in their grasps, and somehow he just managed to seep through them! It was like holding ice and then somehow it instantly all melts to water. The idea of having no lead at the time being was making him feel anxious.

He started out of the bar, Emily following closely behind him and both of them leaving Harris standing there examining what his team managed to mess up.

"All we can do for the time being is go to the next sight and wait for either Reid or Garcia to find something," Morgan said, exiting the building before Prentiss walked out. "Someone will contact us if we get a lead. Let's just drop the idea that we have nothing and focus on the case. If we don't keep our heads together, we'll never catch this son of a bitch."

* * *

><p>Spencer Reid took another mindless sip of his coffee, noticing how insanely sweet it really was, before noticing a small mistake he had made in his little lecture.<p>

_Damn it, _he wanted to say aloud, but he wasn't the type to swear, so he kept the utterance to himself.

He couldn't believe he fell for something so obvious and slid the wheeled chair back over to the computer before typing madly onto the keyboard to find out exactly what this guy wanted. There was no way he could have missed it, he kept thinking to himself. There was no way that this minor thing would affect the entire investigation and the fault would be on him. He couldn't believe he fell for it, they all fell for it.

"The names, they were a decoy," he mumbled to himself and continued banging down on the letters as he aggressively tried to figure out exactly what he was trying to avoid.

* * *

><p>Hotch's phone rang from his jacket pocket as him and Rossi entered Garcia's office, Reid flashing on the screen as the caller identification.<p>

"Hotchner," he said, Reid breaking him off before he could continue his thought, just like the genius was doing with everyone lately.

"_Hotch, I just called Morgan with false information that was meant for to lead us out of the way. I mean, I figured it out, but you have to get Morgan and Prentiss out of there as soon as possible. I have an itching feeling we don't want them getting hurt, and that's one of the main priorities of the unsub at this point_," the kid breathed through the phone, rushing through his words before Hotch could manage a response.

"What do you mean you gave Morgan wrong info?" Hotch asked, questioning the statements Reid was giving him.

"_It was a diversion_!" Reid yelled through the phone, Hotch sensing that the young boy was a little more than just panicked. "_Make sure Emily and Derek don't go anymore crime scenes! I'll explain later, just get them out of there!"_

Hotch held the phone away from his ear, glancing down as the screen flashed 'Call Ended.' The kid had hung up on him; this must be something huge.

Knowing not to wait any longer before making his next phone call, Aaron Hotchner called Derek Morgan, hoping the younger agent would answer in a leveled voice. Whatever Reid was expecting from the unsub had frightened him enough to call Hotch in the first place. There must be something more than what Reid was leading onto, which was, in fact, nothing.

"_Morgan,"_ the other line answered, giving Hotch a sigh of relief. The agent sounded normal; if Reid was waiting for something, it certainly hadn't happened yet.

"Morgan, you and Prentiss get out of there as fast as you can, where ever you are. Whatever Reid told you was a diversion meant to distract us, and for about three minutes, it did. Make sure you leave wherever you are and get back to head quarters as soon as possible," Hotch said, making the message brief and simple.

Morgan gave a quick response and the call was ended. Hotch could only hope that whatever Reid was trying to avoid would become avoided, and that Prentiss and Morgan could get out of there quickly.

Garcia and Rossi both glanced at Hotch before either one of the agents handed Penelope the paperwork, their faces questioning what the hell had just happened. "I'll have Reid explain. I really don't know what's going on."

* * *

><p>Times are looking grim these days, holding on to everything, it's hard to draw the line. And I, I'm hiding in this empty space, torture all my memories of what I left behind," Jonathan Davis of Korn.<p> 


	6. Profile

Stephen King once said, "Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty."

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss rushed from the second building that they'd been at that day, Derek Morgan running behind her. They hit the street right before the explosion crashed through the café and tumbled the ceiling to the ground. It was one solid movement; something inside giving out so quick that the small complex just gave out at the center, not able to hold itself up any longer. The only option it had was to descend as quickly as possible to the ground, ending up in nothing but a heap of disorder.<p>

Morgan took a few deep breaths, realizing exactly what had just happened. Since he was a bomb expert and for some reason their unsub was upping up his game, Morgan could only assume the worst: the guy was ready to get rid of the originals.

He lifted his hands from his knees, exhaling a few more times so he could get his thoughts together.

"Morgan," Prentiss said, eyeing the other agent and taking a glance around the new crime scene.

No one was hurt, she made sure of that. They were the only ones in the building, well, when they were still inside. If Reid had caught the fault just a couple seconds too late, it'd be over for them. They'd be the bloody mess that would be lying underneath all the fallen structure,

Thank the Lord that's not how it ended.

"I'll call Hotch," he said, taking his phone from his back pocket. He voice was steady for what just happened. He threw a glance over his shoulder towards the female agent, taking a look at her before clicking the green button on the left side of his phone. "You're not hurt, are you, Emily?" he asked, hoping her answer was the same as his.

Prentiss turned from the café back to Morgan, shaking her head fast and brief. "I'm fine, how 'bout you?"

Morgan nodded, giving her the okay that he was all right. "No harm done, except to the building." He looked at what had been the café before he heard the click on the other end of the line as Hotch answered the call.

"_Morgan, are you and Prentiss okay? What happened?"_ Hotch sounded worried, hesitant, and maybe even a little shocked.

"We're fine, Hotch," Derek said, not having to try to be calm. He already was, somehow. It was amazing, but after almost being blown to smithereens he was quite mellow. "I have no idea how but a bomb went off inside," he paused, taking a few breaths to collect himself. "The building crashed pretty hard, it had to be the support beams that were targeted. No one was injured."

He heard Hotch give a sigh of relief. _"All right, Morgan, you and Prentiss get back here as fast as you can. No, don't use your own cars. I'll send on for you_," Hotch replied, changing his mind. _"Just don't do anything until one of us gets there. I'll send Rossi and Reid, and when you all get back, we can sort this out."_

Morgan took the order, responding with a simple 'Okay' before shutting his phone and ending the phone call. He shoved the electronic back in his pocket and glanced to the demolished pile of rubble that used to be a coffee shop. "Rossi and Reid will be here soon then go back to the BAU to get some things cleared up," he told Emily, looking farther up in the sky, seeing the smoke from the explosion still hanging in the air.

* * *

><p>After minutes of explanation, Spencer glanced up from the table and his seventh cup of coffee, already half gone, to the team scattered around the conference room before giving them all a frown. "You don't believe me, do you?"<p>

David Rossi quirked his lips to the side in a sort of confused manner, trying to figure out how anything Reid was saying made any sense. It was mathematically correct, and Reid was a genius, but it was still hard to get it through his head that the young man was able to delude anything that fast. "Now, Reid, no one said that we didn't believe you-"

"You didn't have to say it," Spencer said, making another interruption, his frown deepening. "You're faces say it all."

Hotch turned from the window of the office and went back to looking at Reid. "It's not that we don't believe you, Reid, it might just be that you're reasoning might be a little out of whack for some of us. It's possible, yes, but it seems a little farfetched."

The genius glowered a little more, glancing from agent to agent. "I don't see how," he admitted, trying to justify his actions. He felt like he was being accused of something he obviously didn't do, like someone was getting a kick out of framing him. Maybe this was what Morgan had felt like back in Chicago.

Morgan, who seated on the other end of the table, shrugged, drawing most of the attention is the conference room. "I'm kind of with Reid on this one," he said, giving the younger man a chance to release a sigh. Spencer muttered a 'thank you' before Morgan continued. "It makes perfect sense. The unsub probably thought we could get more on him, seeing as we're in the FBI and all, and left weird signatures, not to identify that it was his crime, but that he could distract us into believing that it was his form of identification. You have to think outside the box, guys. The unsub has experience, and he knows exactly what he's doing, added to that, he also knows exactly what we're looking for."

Hotch only nodded, seeing how Reid could have made sense of everything within that one moment. "But Reid, how did you connect Morgan and Prentiss and their business being out of the office with the fact that the names were to throw us off?"

Spencer Reid leaned back in his chair, for once, about to give a simple answer. "The unsub knows us enough that we investigate the crime scene at each one of our cases with our own agents, so what would make this case at all different?"

Rossi nodded, everything fitting together. "It makes sense. It didn't matter who we sent, we would have sent someone."

"From the fact that it went off when Morgan and Prentiss were there, I'm guessing there had to be a remote involved somehow. There wouldn't have been a timer on the place unless the unsub knew the exact time that we would arrive at the scene, which is ultimately impossible. Humans can't be read that easily; something could have come up and the building would have blown up with no one inside it. He obviously knows statistics enough not to make a judgment based on timing alone, he's smarter than that." Reid took a sip of his coffee after he put his wind pipe to a rest, letting the team divulge something else for a moment.

"Reid's right," Morgan said, glancing up from the genius to Hotchner, who was perched over a pile of papers he was going to have Penelope Garcia take a look at. "The unsub knows not to place his faith in what he thinks could happen, there's always the chance that it could backfire."

"Then why blow the place up if he saw you and Prentiss leaving?" JJ asked, questioning the rest of the team.

"That's the thing," Reid said, standing up from his desk chair, walking over to the window board they had, facing his back to it and his face to the team. "The bomb was probably on a timer, maybe ten seconds or a minute or something, from the time that the unsub pressed the button to activate the bomb. He would have wanted to see the explosion, but not be too nearby to be considered a standby or something that could make him a suspect. Normally bombs with remotes detonate a certain amount of time after the bomber originally tells the machine to self destruct. They also have to be close enough for the remote to work. Like with garage door openers or television remotes; you can't stand over a thousand miles away and expect your garage door to open or your TV to turn on. It's not possible. I imagine that there was a simple detonator but the bomb is more of a hassle that it'll look like. Maybe something like a remote controlled car that kids play with gone sour, maybe hooked up to something like chemicals inside two liters that's all connected with wires, and the garage door opener just started the chain reaction."

Jennifer Jareau nodded, not giving Reid the chance to add anything else on. "Okay, so what does that make of our profile?"

"He's male between the ages of thirty five and fifty five," Hotch said, giving the basics for the rest of the team to add onto them.

"He'll have experience with chemicals and most likely works for the government," Reid cued in.

Morgan leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands crossed over each other on his lap. "Since he has government connections, he already knows that he didn't hit anyone with the bombing, and he's based somewhere in Quantico, since he's been keeping tabs on us."

"There's a possibility that the one killing the people isn't the one looking for, only the one doing our unsub's dirty work," Rossi added.

Prentiss finished, "And no matter what he holds in office or in the government in general, he'll be someone anyone can approach. Like a family man, or someone who's friends with everyone in their field."

JJ gave another nod. "I guess that's it for now. If we get anything else, we can always add it on to the profile later."

Hotch turned to the door, the rest of the team following him. "Let's go get this profile to the public."

* * *

><p>"There is a blessed necessity by which the interest of men is always driving them to the right; and, again, making all crime mean and ugly," -Ralph Waldo Emerson.<p> 


	7. Unsub

**These next few days might be a little hard to post chapters on. I've been packing up all my things at my house for the time being and am beginning to move in to my new one tonight. Every night will be like that, since I can't move by myself, considering I don't have a license. Next week will also be hassle, since I'll be helping my best friend and her mom move into their new house. The rest of July will most likely be like this, but I think I can still post every day. If I don't, I am sorry. This is just a heads-up. **

**Once again, thank you for the reviews. :') They mean a lot, and I wish I was able to reply to them.**

**I have a feeling I'm about to reach the climax, but I'm not sure how many more chapters it'll take me to get there.**

**For now, I'm just going to write and go with the flow.**

**Happy reading.**

* * *

><p>"Being an intellectual creates a lot of questions and no answers," -Janis Joplin.<p>

* * *

><p>Aaron Hotchner glanced around the station, making sure that his entire team was ready to tell the officers present of their whole situation. He nodded towards JJ, and she started going off her mental list of the qualities the unsub would possess. It wasn't hard to give a profile for an unsub that worked with the government. They kept to themselves and their co-workers, never really strayed from the boundaries his office gave them, and made sure they kept their record clean. They wanted the fact that they were the ones doing this to be a shock to the ones around them. It wouldn't be a shock if they had a couple of loose bolts in their file, so they would always keep up the act as a perfect little FBI agent.<p>

"It's also possible that he could hold a high position of seating, but still under someone that has work force power over him; another possible reason for him attacking FBI agents," Reid said, folding his hands together and resting them behind his neck.

Hotch glanced to the genius before continuing the profile. "Most people that are in the FBI or certain branches of the government are between the ages of thirty five and fifty five, since retirement is close by." Hotch paused, noticing the room grow quiet. "Dr. Reid is the youngest member ever to join the BAU," he added, since most of the officers were staring at the young genius.

"And how old are you?" one of the 'forms asked, drawing attention from the team.

"Twenty nine," Spencer said, piping up. "I've been with the BAU for six years, the FBI for eight. You see, I graduated from high school at the age of 12 with high honors and got my first doctorate at age 16. I now hold three, and am working to get my third bachelor's degree in Philosophy." He glanced around, noticing the strange looks from the police in the room. "What?" he asked innocently, not knowing how smart he sounded at that moment.

Prentiss sighed, most of the officers glancing over to her. "Yes, he's a genius," she said, earning a grin from said genius and a couple shocked looks from the rest of the force.

"But that's beside the point," Reid said, walking over to a white board with scattered pictures of multiple crime scenes. "He knows how to use a gun, perfect marksmanship and has a past of being good with explosives," he added, pointing to a picture in the corner where the café was blown up from the inside. It was obviously taken after the wreck was considered a bombing, and it was easy to tell the entire building had been demolished in the act. "It's possible he was with a bomb team for a while, maybe before becoming part of the FBI. He knows how to activate and deactivate the bombs he creates with a single click, and then the bomb will detonate. It's also a possibility that he could be a war veteran, seeing as he knows a lot about close contact and the opposite. He knows everything about the weapons he uses, which so far are just guns and bombs. If you knew the unsub, you'd be very shocked to find out he's the one committing the murders. His neighbors wouldn't believe you nor his co-workers."

"Once we find him, it'll be able to get him to admit what he's done," Morgan said, giving a little input before Reid ended up stealing the entire show. "He's not the type to keep up with a hoax. Once he's found, he realizes that he's lost and that the best thing is to give up. He has a complete understanding of the judicial system and knows when to give up. It's most likely he already knows what will become of him once we catch him and he's ready to give up everything for that, or he wouldn't be doing this. He's got nothing to lose."

"He probably doesn't have a good relationship with his family, or doesn't have family at all," Prentiss added, rolling over onto her other ankle. "It's possible he just recently lost a loved one or has realized he doesn't have any people to call a 'loved one.' If he is married or has children, the relationship he has with them isn't the best and can use some work, but he's put his all into finishing this and giving his task an end. His reputation will be tarnished, but he could care less. There's nothing keeping him back anymore. He can do what he wants with no consequences from anyone that shouldn't be giving him input. He finally has control at his house, or has just woken up to the fact that he's wearing the pants; he's in charge."

Hotch nodded, glancing up from the agents and towards the board where Reid was still standing. "If you're able to, look for anyone working under the power of a woman, someone who might have been recommended for a promotion but wasn't the one to take the job because of this female executive not letting him. He might be back to his office by now, so if anyone happens to see a man who fits the profile, act with caution and not let him now you're on to him. He probably already knows we know this much, maybe a little less."

The 'forms nodded at random times within the next few seconds, most getting up from their seats around the station while one approached Spencer Reid holding his notebook in hand. The rest of the team left the main office and headed towards the back

He stopped before the young genius, who was turned towards the white board at the time. The man tapped lightly on Reid's shoulder, causing the young man to jump a little before turning around. "Oh, hi. Yes?" he asked, wondering the reason for the officer to be coming up to him.

"Ah, Dr. Reid. I was looking through what you gave in the profile and had figured that I know someone who fits this exact description, to a T. I could show you the place I saw him last and give you the address to his house if you wanted. It's a lead, so I thought we'd take it," the man said, Spencer taking his notebook in hand and looking at the notes that were sloppily jotted down.

"All right," he said, agreeing. "I'll go get Morgan or someone and they can come with us," he added, turning around the corner before the man caught his arm and pulled him back. "It'll be too late if we have three or more people, Dr. Reid. He leaves for Florida at three o'clock and he lives around twenty five minutes from here."

Spence glanced down to his watch after fumbling with the sweater vest covering up the hour hand. _Half past two._ He looked up at the officer before giving a short jerky nod. "Okay, I hope you're right about this. It's a little hard going home at night knowing someone is out there killing people because we go to a coffee shop or something."

"You have no idea," the officer said, glancing over his shoulder as him and the young genius walked out the back doors to the parking lot, where a police van was parked. "Wait a second, Dr. Reid. Let me clear off a seat for you."

"You can call me Spencer," the young man replied, wondering why a seat wouldn't already be cleared off. The guy obviously had a partner, so why didn't they drive together.

The thought was thrown from his head as the van door shot open and the officer was offering a hand to pull him up into the vehicle.

"I got it," Reid said, not taking the offered hand lifting his knee to the edge of the van before slipping inward as a crow bar pelted him in the back of the head, instantly knocking him out.

The door to the van slammed shut before Reid hit the floor of the car and the officer pulled the hand cuffs from his belt and latched the young unconscious genius to a bar running across the metal bottom of the vehicle.

"And you can call me your criminal." The officer smirked and hopped in the front of the van, switching on the ignition and pulling from the stations parking lot.

* * *

><p>"You know, it's possible that someone we know or work with could be the unsub," Morgan said, licking his lips and walking back into the main part of the station. It was empty.<p>

Prentiss glanced around, searching for their missing agent. "Where's Reid?" she asked, walking towards the front of the room. It was odd that the genius would leave without saying something to the team. He wasn't the one to go against orders.

Then it clicked. Morgan turned around, running out of the lobby and towards one of the officers that was about to leave the station. His hand landed on the man's shoulder, causing him to turn and face the agent. "The officer that was approaching Dr. Reid towards the end of the profiling, do you know who he is?"

The 'form cocked his head to the side, wondering why the agent was asking such a question. "Um, his names Byron Traylor. Why?"

Morgan made took an annoyed sigh, Prentiss and the rest of the team coming up behind him. "Morgan, what's wrong?" Hotch asked, a frown on his face.

Derek Morgan turned around to face his team. "Byron Traylor, he's our unsub. And he has Reid."

* * *

><p>"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and, therefore, the foundation of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and relevetory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared," -J.K. Rowling.<p> 


	8. Found

"If you think being dysfuncted and damaged, strapped to your baggage, dirty, ruined and hurt like critical, cynical, scathing, if you're lost or have come up missing, scarred and scared (or pretending you aren't), when you think that's all you've got, it's not. The sadness you wear around like a trophy is intriguing at most, but it's miserable, and about as original as a frat boy with a visor cap. So step up," -Buddy Wakefield.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" the cop asked, the one that Derek had just questioned about Traylor. "That doesn't seem anything like Byron would do…"<p>

Morgan nodded. There was no doubt in his mind that Traylor was the one behind this all. The only thing he needed was to get something on him. Locations other than home, weekend getaways, something that wasn't close by. Somewhere he would feel safe. "That's what the profile says. No one would expect it from him, but he's the one doing it. He took Reid. What other motivation could someone have for taking a defenseless genius? I don't see one."

Hotch sighed. "JJ, call Garcia and see if she can get a reading from Reid's phone."

The blonde liaison nodded and walked away from the group, trying to hold herself together.

This wasn't the first time Spencer Reid was kidnapped. The only thing that she could think about was Tobias Hankel and Reid being helpless, drugged, and tortured by a man suffering from a form of multiple personality disorder. She couldn't see that happen again, especially since she blamed herself the first time it happened. If only her and Reid hadn't split up, he would've been fine. Wouldn't be an addict and wouldn't have all of this pent up anger welled up inside him.

As she turned the corner, Hotch glanced back to the officer that was standing there with the rest of his team. "Officer, you know by now that I'm Aaron Hotchner. And you are?"

"Oh," the 'form mumbled, taken aback a little. He seemed flustered, something that was uncommon to him. "Sorry agent, I should have introduced myself earlier. I'm Dante LaVey. Officer LaVey to the public."

Hotch extended his hand out towards the officer and shook hands with the man, his face calm, a frown still seeping on his lips. "Officer LaVey, I'm going to have to ask you to help us figure some things out about Traylor. If we want to find Reid before this man does anything to him, we're going to need your full cooperation. Can you give us that?"

Over Hotch's shoulder, Morgan was glaring at the officer, knowing there was something off about him as well. He just didn't sit well with the agent.

"Of course," LaVey said, following Hotch to a conference room towards the back of the station as the SSA turned his back to the officer and began to make his own path through the building.

After LaVey entered the room, Rossi followed them both and sat in another chair against the wall as Hotch shut the door behind them all, hearing the small click of the lock being set in place.

"LaVey, do you know anything about Traylor's private life? Maybe his wife or kids? Something that has changed for him recently?" Hotch asked, walking towards the white board in the corner of the room. At this station, they had two set up; the one in the conference room and the one down in the lobby. The same one Spencer Reid had been looking at right before he was duped by that pretentious fool that called himself a cop.

"Hm, well, he just got out of a divorce with his wife of eleven years. They have two kids, both probably around three or four. After they had their kids, their relationship with each other went downhill. Byron was working more to support all four of them, and Katie, his then wife, was mad because he couldn't make time for her. It was terrible to see him go through it. They weren't rich or anything, so they couldn't just stay at home and drink wine all day. He had to work all the time since their kids were so young and couldn't stay home alone. Then Katie was put on a leave of absence from her job as the kids were growing up, but she couldn't take not having her husband anymore. A couple of months they finalized the divorce, but the process had probably taken over a year."

Hotch glanced over to Rossi, who nodded, and walked from the room down to Morgan and Prentiss. Glancing back over to LaVey, Aaron Hotchner changed his question to another. "Does he get to see his kids?"

LaVey quirked his mouth to the side a little, thinking back to what Traylor had told him. "Not that I know of. He says he doesn't have the time. Since Katie left him, he's been forcing work down his throat as something to keep him occupied."

SSA Hotchner nodded, walking towards the door and turning his back to the officer still in his chair. "What are you going to do, Hotchner?" the 'form asked, causing the agent to turn back around the face him before he left the room.

"I'm going to find my agent."

* * *

><p>It was dark and hard for him to make out anything around him, but Spencer had already figured out he was in a house. A quite large suburban house, at that. It wasn't anything like the barn where Tobias Hankel had kept him, and for that, he was grateful. Nothing of that day ever wanted to be repeated by Reid, or anyone on the team for that matter.<p>

Reid glanced around the confinements of his quarters before he struggled at the handcuffs once more. It was a closet, that he could tell. What he didn't know was what type of closet it was. Bedroom, bathroom, linen, there were so many types of closets these days it was almost impossible for the young genius to make a guess.

There were shelves on both side walls and from the door was a hanging towel rack with no towels or robes. Just dark space that might've been clothes, he couldn't tell.

He yanked on the handcuffs once again, feeling the metal carve lines into his skin. The young man winced slightly, leaning over himself, trying to figure out what cold flooring he was sitting on.

Linoleum. That made it his best guess to say it was a bathroom closet.

Maybe it was a new house, he told himself, considering the reasons why nothing was on the shelves. It wasn't a pantry, so he probably wasn't in a kitchen. He stuck with kitchen as his makeshift observation. He'd have to deal with not knowing for now. Maybe he'd figure out if his captor would come back.

No. That wasn't something to hope for. What Reid needed was to get out of this closet, wherever the hell it was, and get back to his team, who he knew were already searching for him.

But his prayer wasn't answer. More like the opposite.

He squinted his eyes as a bright iridescent light flooded through the room and onto him. After a while, he was able to look up without a problem and eyed the man who had wacked him upside the head with a crowbar.

"Hello, Dr. Reid," the man said, leaning in towards the closet and fastening another handcuff to Spencer's right wrist. After he latched the handcuff to one of the shelves and fastened the other pair of handcuffs to his left hand and the other side of the shelves, Traylor backed from the genius with a grin in his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" Spencer asked, offering the man only a glare. If only he knew the man's name, then this would be easier. He could get into his head before he would've even noticed.

"Oh, nothing, Spencer," the man said, keeping his face passive and calm. "The only thing I want is my wife back."

Reid frowned, feeling his wrists pain only then. He winced once, but made it hard to tell.

Traylor just stayed still.

"How is kidnapping me going to bring your wife back to you?" Spencer asked, wondering how stupid this guy could be.

For some reason, he found himself becoming even more frightened. The stupid unsubs were always the worse ones.

The unsub remained in his place. "You see, if I take one of you down, I can take your place. I'd make more money and could be home more often because of it," he justified, even though he was out of whack.

Spencer leaned his head towards his left hand, itching his eye with the back of his hand. This guy was most definitely on something or was just clinically retarded. "I don't think that makes any sense," he said, staying still besides moving back to his previous sitting arrangement.

"You don't? I thought you were a genius."

Spencer bit his lip, not able to contain his words like normal. "You'll kill me, then go to prison when they catch you. Even if you don't kill me, you're going to prison. You've killed over fifty people in the last half a year. There's nothing saying that if you kill a FBI agent you get to take over their job. It doesn't work that way."

Traylor frowned. "Do you think my wife would see me if I was in prison?"

Reid's eye widened. Somehow, this man was convinced killing a federal agent would let him see his wife. Maybe he would do anything to see her. "Maybe. Y'know, if you let me go and I call my team, I'll do whatever it takes to let you see her. And your kids, if you want that, too."

The unsub lit up. Maybe that was all it took. "You would do that, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer only nodded. "I would help you if you helped me. These handcuffs are killing me."

The man only quirked his lips to the side, wondering if he could actually trust the young agent. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

Reid only smiled. "I wouldn't lie to someone who only wanted to see his wife and kids. I know what it's like to grow up without a father, and it sucks. If you're kids had to go through that, I'd feel even worse. As long as you're kids get to grow up with you for a little bit, I'll be able to help you. But you have to trust me. What will it take you to trust me?"

"When we leave here," Traylor began, his frown softening up a little, "we go to my wife's house and see her and my sons."

Spencer nodded. "Great, I'd love to meet your kids. They sound like great children."

The unsub gave the genius a little smile as he leaned over to unfasten the handcuffs. "Do you promise, Spencer?" he asked, before clicking them fully off.

Reid nodded, a little smile on his lips. He had gotten rid of an unsub. He almost wished they were all this easy. "I promise."

* * *

><p>Morgan yanked his phone from his pocket, about to panic as he read the name on the caller ID.<p>

"Reid, where the hell are-"

"_Morgan, I'm fine. Mr. Traylor and I are calling you to pick us up. You can trace the phone right?_"

Morgan's jaw dropped. "Of course," he said, almost reluctant.

"_I told Mr. Traylor we could stop by to see his wife and kids and he agreed that it would be best for them to grow up with a father."_

The agent only nodded; understand exactly how Spencer did it. "That's fine. We'll be there soon. Just stay put, Reid."

He could hear the smile on Reid's face. "_Always, Morgan_," the genius said before the call ended.

Prentiss turned around to Morgan. "Who was that?"

Morgan only grinned. Somehow, this made him feel accomplished. He was satisfied. He was happy.

"That was Reid; I know where he is."

* * *

><p>"I don't believe war is a way to solve problems. I think it's wrong. I don't have respect for the people that made the decisions to go on with war. I don't have that much respect for Bush. He's about war, I'm not about war - a lot of people aren't about war," -Avril Lavigne<p> 


	9. Evaluation

**Alrighty. ;_; This was not the way I wanted this story to end at all, but my head won't let my process the ending any other way. I hope it gives some closure, or something, because I haven't posting anything in **_**forever**_**, for which I am sorry. I've been caught up with things, plus, this is the first day I've had internet since I moved. It sucks.**

**Anyway! I won't let you wait any longer, here is you ending. Thank you. **

* * *

><p>All our lives we search for someone to love, someone to make us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance to a song of heartbreak and hope, all the while wondering if somewhere, somehow, someone perfect is searching for us," -Anonymous<p>

* * *

><p>"Agent Hotchner, thank you for joining me."<p>

"My pleasure, ma'am."

Erin Strauss sat at her desk, notepad in hand and a ballpoint pen twisting in her fingers. She looked a little peeved, but it was hard for the older agent to really tell what was going on in her head. She simply looked up from the paper and glanced at him, wondering sprouting from the back of her eyes.

"If I may ask, why did you believe that the man known as Byron Traylor was the unsub?"

Hotch quirked his lips to the side. Wasn't the answer obvious? He didn't ask that, though. That wasn't like him. He was getting tired of the questions and the evaluation of the event that Strauss was putting him and the entire team through. It was only a week ago that they were stuck dealing with a serial killer who specialized in everything, mainly trying to kill them. It was worse that he almost came through with it. It was almost too late. "I guess because Reid was kidnapped from the police station, right after giving a profile of the unsub, and was held captive in his house for a while, I thought that he might be the one we were looking for. Wouldn't you get that suspicion if you had an agent that was taken right after explaining what the killer wanted?" He wasn't trying to agitate Strauss, and the way he worded his answer came out a little sharp-toned, but Strauss paid no mind, moving on before answering his question.

"But you were wrong, Agent Hotchner. Traylor was just a psychologically messed up man who had the same profile as your unsub," Strauss said, clicking the end of the pen and then moving in across the paper as she jotted down some notes.

Hotch huffed under his breath. "It's a mistake anyone would have made, ma'am. If he fit the profile, and then kidnapped an agent, it would make a lot of people think that he was the one we were looking for. I wasn't the only one who thought Traylor was the unsub."

Strauss wrote down a couple more sentences and then looked up at the young genius, something he couldn't understand melting in her eyes. "Thank you, Agent Hotchner. You can leave now."

The agent stood as the section chief dismissed him from the room, not giving a second look back at the woman.

* * *

><p>"Agent Morgan, take a seat."<p>

Derek Morgan hugged the doorway with the left side of his body, still wondering if this evaluation was worth any of their time. To him, it seemed like Strauss was always trying to put blame on their team. He took an sigh and moved closer to the desk and sunk in the chair across from the woman.

"When Agent Reid contacted you about Traylor being the unsub, what did you do?" She didn't even wait a moment before jumping into the questions.

Morgan scowled. "I told him that we were on our way, and that I would send officers to the location he said he was at. Told him to stay and then our team left our location as well, heading to the address Reid provided me with."

Strauss glanced up from her notes, her face somber and serious. "The address Dr. Reid provided you with, were false, were they not?"

The agent tensed. He was getting more uncomfortable talking to Strauss now than ever before. The outcome would be different. "The address was not, false, chief. It was a secondary location. We see them every day. It's common for an unsub to have another location he feels safe and secure at."

Strauss's eyes narrowed. "Just like it is normal for an agent to be the unsub in a Federal manner, agent?"

Morgan bit his tongue. That snake was going to find a way to blame the entire incident on their team, wasn't she? "That's an entirely different manner, ma'am. It's not my team's fault that there was a mole in the system. No one would have known for years to come if the unsub hadn't shown himself when he did."

Strauss nodded incoherently and tapped her pen on the edge of the desk, somehow nerving Morgan more than he already was. He hated these damned evaluations. Really, most of the times they had to take them, it made sense. This wasn't one of those times. It would have been different if the mole was someone on their team or something, but it was someone the team was only acquainted with on time and time again basis. It wasn't like they went out drinking with the guy. Morgan leaned forward in the chair, his fists resting on his cheeks.

"What do you want to know, Strauss?"

* * *

><p><em>Morgan hung up the phone and explained to the team exactly what Reid had told him, and everything that he didn't tell him, but didn't need to be explain with the actual words, Morgan could understand what was going down with only certain parts of the information Reid had said over the phone. The genius lead on that he was getting out of the situation in a calm manner and that the unsub wasn't psychologically stable, even though they already knew that. Traylor's life had fallen apart from the moment he couldn't see his wife and kids, even if it was his ex-wife. Like other couples, the Traylor's had split up because of work hours and the job itself. It was the same thing that happened with Hotch.<em>

_After a couple of moments of explaining to the team, the entire group set out to the location Reid had given them, jumping in the federal SUVs and speeding their way to the address._

_Morgan did find it odd, though, how the genius had calmed down the unsub enough to get the phone, untie himself from where ever he was, call them, and still be talking down the unsub and getting the man to listen to him. He wasn't going t question it, though. Reid _was_ a genius. If he couldn't do it, none of them could._

_The vehicle sped up slightly as they came to close quarters on the place. It wasn't until Morgan knew Reid was absent from the lot that they had been duped. But why would the genius tell them something that was untrue? It wasn't as if he was the mole. Was it? No, there was no way that Reid, graduated from high school at the age of twelve, would ever do anything against the team. But wasn't that part of the profile, that the co-workers would never believe that the unsub would be the one to do it? But the profile also needed something that affected them in August. Reid was handicapped for a while due to getting shot in the leg, but Morgan didn't think that was enough. Actually, it might just be. He was taken out of the field and pushed with Garcia for months when he was always with the team. Maybe that was the stressor…_

_No, Morgan told himself. This was not the time to start suspecting his co-workers, none the less his best friend._

_This was the time to start looking for the genius who had given him the wrong address and then demand some answers._

* * *

><p>"So you gave them the wrong address on accident?"<p>

Reid nodded, knowing it might be hard for her to understand exactly what had happened. "I was stuck inside a closet on the highest floor of the house, only me and Traylor there. I thought he was drunk or something of the sorts because unsubs normally don't give into the feds that fast. When my team didn't show up for some time, I was considering the fact that the address he gave me was either bogus or he just had the wrong location. When someone as unstable as him is moved from place to place to place, it's going to be hard to remember exactly what place he was in. For some reason, he thought he was in the old house he lived in with his wife, but we were in the house his parents owned. When I got outside, I realized something was wrong and used the phone to call Morgan again. I tried him a couple of times before I came to that he wasn't going to answer and was working on something else, so I tried Agent Prentiss and she answered."

* * *

><p><em>The phone was ringing from within Prentiss's jacket pocket and she pulled it out slickly, flipping it open without checking the caller ID. <em>

"_Prentiss," she said, readjusting her hand against the handle of her gun._

"Hey, Prentiss, it's Reid. We have a problem. The address I gave Morgan was wrong. Something's wrong with Traylor mentally. He told me his address, but that's where he used to live. I'll get you the actual address in a moment. I guess something's wrong with this phone," _she heard the phone move away from his ear for a moment, possibly looking the device over. _"It's disposable so it can't be traced, but somehow it routes back to his old house."

_Prentiss nodded, even though she knew Reid couldn't see her to understand her answer, and decided to move onto talking. "That works, Reid, and kind of confusing. I could have Garcia look into it if you wanted me t-"_

"No, that would be a waste of time. Just get over here as soon as you can. I always get stuck with the serial killers…" _Reid's phone trailed off and the call ended, Prentiss alerting Morgan of the problem and the both of them rushing towards the young agent's real location, Hotch and Rossi right behind them._

* * *

><p>Prentiss sat in the office, one of her legs folded over the other in a laid back and casual tone. She was good at these things, even though they annoyed the hell out of her.<p>

Strauss was seated in front of her and was watching her carefully. "So, Emily, how did you know that you had the wrong unsub? When did you figure that much out?"

Prentiss narrowed her eyes slightly. What kind of question was that? It was so obvious, it should have been considered rhetorical. "Our team as a whole figured it out when we viewed an agent we all know holding a gun to another officer's throat, wondering why we had thought it was someone else." From what she remembered, the man was fuming.

"What agent was it, Agent Prentiss?" Strauss asked. Emily wondered why the hell the woman always asked all the questions she already knew. She muttered 'procedure' to herself before answering the question.'

"Agent Anderson," Prentiss mumbled, trying to hold back a snarl.

* * *

><p><em>After the team arrived at the station with Reid and Traylor in arms, they noticed the familiar man behind the glass with a handgun shoved into an officer's temple. Some of the team was in awe, but Hotch was just furious. A man that they had trusted up until this point was the unsub, no doubt, not Traylor.<em>

"_Why the hell would you think it was him?" Anderson shrieked, his eyes full of hatred and rage. What in the world had drove the agent to drastic measures like this? It was like him. Then again, that fit the profile. Everything about Anderson at this point fit the profile._

_Hotch tried to move in closer, possibly get the officer to safe ways, but Anderson pointed the gun at the other agent and kept a tight grip on his federal hostage. "Get any closer, Agent Hotchner, I swear I will shoot you in the face and then kill this officer."_

_The officer in his arms was a woman, probably a couple years younger than Morgan, and completely scared out of her wits. Hotch nodded, not trying to aggravate Anderson at this point. "I'm not going to shoot you, Anderson. Just let the officer go and lower your gun."_

_Hotch didn't move except for moving his mouth when he was talking to Anderson. The latter just shook his head. "You don't expect me to give in that easily, do you, Agent Hotchner? I'm here for a reason and that reason alone. I don't have an interest in doing anything you say. You don't have control over me. If you shoot me, I shoot her. Easy as that. Now, how you do want to do this?"_

_Under his breath, Hotch let a curse slip and raised his eyes from the officer to Anderson, who was more than unstable at this point. He was being ridiculous. The man obviously knew how the judicial system worked more than so many other people, but he was going against it through so many ways and thought he could get out of it? How do these people get these ideas…?_

"_Agent Anderson, please either lower your weapon or let the officer go. I will not warn you again." Hotch stood, his voice flat and empty, which was another thing that was aggravating Anderson. He flicked is finger a couple times, ready to pounce._

* * *

><p>"So you shot him?"<p>

"It seemed like the only thing reasonable to do."

David Rossi was seated in front of Strauss at this point, almost at the end of the evaluation, still calm and focused. "I shot his hand the gun dropped from it, the officer got away, and then we had him cornered. It was the easiest way to get something done."

"You shot another agent," Strauss said, not letting the topic go.

Rossi sighed. "I shot an unsub who was holding an innocent officer as a hostage."

Strauss hmm'ed and moved on to some other questions before glancing up to Rossi for a few more important ones. Her eyes were cold and hard.

"Do you, David Rossi, believe your team is ready to go back into the field at this point?"

Rossi frowned, raising his eyebrows in wonder. "Why wouldn't we be going back into the field?"

"That wasn't what I asked you, Agent Rossi. Please answer the question."

He tilted his eyes to the side, trying to guess what Strauss was trying to figure out. "I think we're ready for anything. We've faced worse than this and got out of it almost unscathed."

Strauss nodded, fumbling through her notes before meeting Rossi's eyes once again. "Good, then I have another case for you."

* * *

><p>"A man has to live with himself, and he should see that he always has good company," –Charles Evans Hughes.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Woohoo! The end. Yeah, I thought the ending was weird, too. –shrug- Can't change it now. xD I always wanted to read and write the little parts during the evaluations. They're so fun. :D I think I'm going to focus more on Refrain for a while, then maybe do another one, but I found writing two at once was getting a little difficult. : Yeah, so Refrain! xD Anywho! Thanks so much for alerting, favoriting, reviewing, and reading! :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D It means so much to me! :D Goodbye for now! Oh, and if you're wondering why I didn't have JJ or Garcia being interviewed, it's because they didn't fit into the plot twist I was adding. Sorry. xD**


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